The Clock Keeps Spinning
by Kolourz
Summary: Over 120 years have passed since the events of BB. How have the reapers adapted to blending in with modern society? Well, apparently, reapers do normal human jobs sometimes...
1. Chapter 1

_Oh, journal, it sure is nice that I have you~!_

_Anyways, I've finally enough money to get out of the hellhole apartment I had been living in and get a cozy little loft one! Isn't that nice? It over looks the city, and there's no cracks in the ceiling, and I actually have my own furniture! Pity I left for America though, maybe I'd be able to get a teeny house if I'd stayed in Britain..._

_The library's only a block ot two away, I can see it from my window. I keep trying to call Will, but he never returns my calls... I even bought a snazzy little red cell phone so I wouldn't have to use a landline!_

_God, it's been so long since I actually lived down with everyone else. I'm down for a year, everything's all posh in Britain, I head back home for what felt like, oh... five years? Didn't age a bit. I head back down, and it's a new millennium! I must've been sleeping on the job or something..._

_I love it here so much, though! I still have my nice old outfit, love it to bits, but I do have to wear modern things. Get a modern job if I'll be down here. Which I do have, mind you! It's just a tad boring for my tastes. High school coach, my ass. More like 'teach every class ever when some other teacher is away'. And these kids, so annoying! They just can't respect me!_

_Wahh~ I'm so incredibly tired, journal. I think I'll go down to the library tomorrow before school starts up and try and talk to William..._

_

* * *

_

He hated beeping alarm clocks.

After a few seconds of trying to ignore it, Grell lazily turned over in his bed and slammed his hand down on his alarm clock's snooze button. It was only six in the morning, too early for his tastes, a full hour before he normally woke up to get ready for his 'job'.

It took him a moment to remember why he had set it so early. One of the other reapers he worked alongside with, William Spears, had decided to take up a small working position at a library after he thought it was the right time to actually begin working with humans - exactly one hundred and twenty-two years after he last paid frequent visits to the human world, in 1888. Once Grell had learned that he would finally be tied down somewhere, he quickly decided to take residence in the same city, and hope that they'd be able to be together, for once.

With a sigh, the redhead sat up in his bed and yawned, stretching out his arms. "Damn, Will, you sure do rise early..." he mumbled to himself, his half-closed, yellow-green eyes lazily looking out his bedside window. The sun had barely even risen, but he could make out the library a block away, and a sleek black car pulling into it's parking lot.

"But at least I'll be able to catch you this time," Grell said, grinning. He quickly grabbed at his glasses - his favorite pair, red-rimmed with a black beaded neck chord - and slipped them on, hopping out of bed to prepare himself for the long day ahead.

_Let's see here..._ he thought to himself, stopping for a moment, _dress up first, or put on makeup? That stupid tracksuit I have to wear doesn't have to be pulled over my head..._ He shrugged, quickly kicking off his sleeping pants, _tracksuit first, I suppose, but I __**do**__ need to shower first, make my hair all nice and pretty... Oh, I hope I can catch him~!_

_

* * *

_

Roughly thirty minutes later, Grell was dashing down the loft apartment building's stairwell, a messenger bag slung over one of his shoulders. "Crap!" he muttered to himself, "At this rate, he will have already opened and be working! Why can't I ever catch him..."

He quickly dashed across the street to the next block, hopping over a parked car in front of him instead of going around it. "I wish I could just jump over everything like I do at night," he said, "Running and driving in the daytime is _so_ tedious..." He reached the street at the other end of the block, across from the library, and looked up at an analog clock on the library's side. It was now twenty minutes until seven.

Grell pursed his lips together as he hurried across the street and ducked inside of the library. And from the entrance, he saw his target. _Slicked back brown hair, golden green eyes, serious little glasses..._ Grell sighed dreamily under his breath, _I've finally cornered you, Will!_

As he began to waft across the entryway to the front desk, William Spears didn't even have to look up to know that a curtain of red was approaching him. "Grell Sutcliff," he said quietly, "you have left exactly thirty-seven messages on my phone in the past three days, and, according to my co-workers, have tired to see me about ten times." He fixed his rectangular glasses, "What would you like today?"

"H-hey! How did you even know I was in here yet?" Grell asked in an odd mix of a pout and a whisper, "I wanted to be like an early-morning surprise, Will!"

"That outfit you have to wear to the school makes a rustling noise when you move," William replied blankly, looking up to finally greet his not-so-secret admirer. "Also, not only is your hair bright red, but that outfit is too. Red and white. Very hard to not ignore."

Grell seemed to radiate happiness, "Oh, at least I can get your attention!" He giggled, "Anyways, I just wanted to talk, you know? I only keep messaging you and such because I miss being with you!" A sharp-toothed smile graced the reaper's face, "Besides, it's not like you know anyone else in this city."

William glared at his visitor, "I know two other people, actually, and I prefer talking to them instead of you. You might know them..." He sighed quietly, nudging his glasses further up onto his nose, "Also, it's almost seven o' clock. Don't you have somewhere to be?"

"The school can wait," Grell replied as he reached up to try and touch William's cheek. "You don't have to be shy, although I do love it when you act stern, Will." He giggled again, "I know you're just acting like this because you're at work -"

"Touch me again, and I make you stay in the reaper realm _permanently, _Grell," William spat out, batting Grell's hand off of his face. He scowled, "If you need people to talk to, Ronald works at some night club downtown and Undertaker is working at the hospital's morgue under a false name. Now please, leave me be."

Backing away slightly, Grell tilted his head slightly to the side, "Are you kidding? I thought Ronnie stayed behind and that Undertaker was still in London..." He tossed a stray bit of hair out of his face, "Did we all just come to this city by chance, Will, dearie?"

Shaking his head, Will casually turned around to begin sorting a pile of books, "Undertaker moved here after World War II, I followed him just recently, Ronald followed me." He paused, picking up one of the books and flicking through it, "I must be popular. I know you followed me, too. You're very predictable."

"Whatever you say," Grell hummed. "I guess I do have to leave, though. Pity, I really wanted to talk with you, Will." With a flick of his wrist, he waved goodbye and turned on his heels, "Please, do tell me how I can contact the others, maybe I can spread some of my love to them, yes? Anyhow, bye, my lovely little stick in the mud!"

William shook his head, closing the book and setting it back down again. "Good riddance..."

* * *

AN: Drabble stuff! Anyways, this originally started out with an idea and friend and I had that Grell would be an awesome gym teacher, which sort of expanded into a what if situation of what if the reapers kept at their jobs for over a century, until the present day? To tell the truth, I almost forgot anout Ronald Knox... Happy I didn't, though, because the fic would have been full of SRS CONVERSATION with only Grell being goofy. I need more than one prankster!

Also! I need some help thinking up the Undertaker's fake name. Stephen Barnum keeps popping up in my head, but what do you guys think? Suggestions are appreciated~! Also, this is my first fic in this fandom, so hopefully it doesn't get swamped be repetitive CielSeb fics! - Kolo


	2. Chapter 2

_I __**hate**__ teaching these other classes..._

Grell sighed. It was almost the end of the schoolday - the last class he'd have to bother with, actually - and here he was again, sitting in for some other teacher in a subject he knew nothing about. His feet were up on the desk in front of him, legs crossed, as he casually leaned back in his chair and read a magazine he had brought from his apartment.

Almost out of the blue, an energetic pop song began to play somewhere quietly. _Huh..._ Grell thought to himself, turning the page to his magazine, _I thought the kids were supposed to have those on silent._ "Whoever's phone that is, turn it off..." he said lazily (even though this was his first year teaching, he was growing to hate his job).

"Mr. Sutcliff?" a student asked, "Isn't that _your_ phone?"

Grell paused, quickly digging into his coatpocket, "Oh, um, yes, it is!" He laughed, embarrassed, and quickly stood up to make his way toward the classroom door, "Beg y'pardon. Erm, would you excuse me for a moment?"

Once outside of the classroom, Grell quickly set to answering his phone, "Hello? Sorry for the late answer, you've got me during class, but I can call you right back after three o' clock, I can't really talk -"

"Wait a sec, first time I've talked to you in, like, forever, and you're pushing me aside?" the caller interrupted, laughing into the phone, "It's me! Ronald! Will told me that you bugged him today and gave me your number!"

"R-Ronnie?" Grell squeaked into the phone, jumping up and down slightly from excitement. "Oh my god, you're right, it _has_ been forever! I almost didn't recognise your voice, even!" He giggled, "I just got this phone a few weeks ago, y'see and I'm not quite used to having it on me during classes..."

Ronald paused, "You're going to school? Man, I feel so sorry for you!"

Grell shook his head, "No no no, Ronnie, I'm teaching. I thought it was something that would be intersting - by the by, if you ever wanna teach, don't, it's not what it's cracked up to be." He chuckled to himself, "But enough about me. How've you been doing?"

"Eh, decently," Ronald replied, sighing, "I'm tired all the time and I keep moving. Every night I work, I get called to someone's place for some party, and I always wake up hung over to all hell and in someone I don't know's house."

"You know, partying all the time isn't good for you," Grell scolded. He scratched at his head, biting his lip, "And what do you mean by keep moving? Ronnie, are you just living with whoever lets you stay with them...?"

After a long pause, Ronald responded solemnly, "...Y-yes. You know, if you have space, I'd love to live with you." He then laughed, "But don't worry about me, okay? I'm doing fine! I only called you because Will wants me to pass some info along to you. Dunno why he won't do it on his own, though..."

"He probably just wants to remind me to stay away from him," Grell said blankly, keeping an eye on a clock across the hallway - school would be out any minute, "He's so... unfeeling! I do find it attractive, but only to an extent..."

Ronald laughed again, "Hey, cheer up! It's not that, even. He wants me to tell you how to find Undertaker. Probably just because Undertaker and I can stand you for more than five seconds, y'know?" His laughter subsided, "I know that you gotta go soon, so I'll just be quick. He works nighttime hours at the hospital, just ask for Dr. Barnum and you should be okay. Got it?"

While he was being told this, Grell had snuck back inside of the classroom to grab his messenger bag and magazine. "Barnum? Funky last name, but alright, I suppose. Listen, I'll get in trouble if I'm on the phone too long by the school, okay, Ronnie?" Quickly making his way back out of the classroom again and toward the school's main entryway, Grell reluctantly stopped talking to his old reaping friend. "You call me on a weekend so we can meet up, okay?"

"Can-do! That is, if I'm, y'know... not hung over."

* * *

The city hospital was an incredibly large, imposing complex - and at nighttime, this was multiplied tenfold. Grell eyed it curiously, _For a building where people go to become healthy again_, he thought to himself, _it sure is giving off one deathly vibe..._ Brushing it off, he proceeded to hurry inside, thinking only that he did not expect Undertaker to be in a place full of living bodies, as opposed to dead.

Quickly tying his hair back into a long ponytail to look (somewhat) normal, Grell walked up to the reception counter. He cleared his throat, "E-erm, hello. Is a, um... Dr. Barnum here? I need to speak with him..."

The woman behind the counter looked up at him, "I'm afraid that Dr. Barnum doesn't have any appointments. He's currently busy with something right now, anyway." She paused, "If you'll give me your name, I could send a notice down."

_Great. Now I have to lie_, Grell thought, biting his cheek. "Well, someone very dear to me is seeing him right now, and I would just like to check in," he spat out. He hated lies made up on the spot, they never worked.

"Oh... I'm terribly sorry, sir," the woman said softly, "if that's the case, I'll just send a visitor's notice down." She quickly turned back to her desk, "Go to the second basement floor. He should be in the room third on your left, from the right."

"A-ah... yes, thank you," he said, smiling, "thank you very much." With that, he quickly walked to the other side of the room, toward a flight of stairs. _I wonder why that woman apologized to me..._ he thought to himself as he began to quickly climb down the stairs. _Maybe he's one of those emergency room doctors... but why would the ER be in the basement?_

Now at the correct level, he turned to his right. "Okay, let's see here..." he mumbled to himself, looking to his left as he counted off the doors, "Door number one, door number two... Aha! Here we go!" He grinned, eagerly opening the door and walking inside, only to be taken aback.

It was freezing.

It stank horribly, like decay.

And directly in front of him, bending over and delicately cutting open part of an already-mangled corpse with a scalpel, was Dr. Barnum.

* * *

Filler chapter is filler-y! It was going to be longer - I only decided a minute ago to cut if off where it is, to keep it and an additional one character per chapter. Trust me, I hate the first half of this chapter because it's hard to me to write people talking to each other on phones.

Meanwhile, the next chapter is pretty decently along since I cut this one off, and has non-shitty dialogue.

I totally didn't mean for Grell to be the main character for a few chapters, but it looks like it may be that way. Once Will, Ronnie, and Undertaker are all in - and maybe Eric and Alan, too - it'll begin to just be brainfarts and hit a stopping point. Herp de derp. - Kolo


	3. Chapter 3

_A morgue..._ Grell thought, covering his nose and mouth with his hands, _d-disgusting... why didn't I figure that out sooner? _He kept quiet, merely staring across the way the the doctor - who, seemingly, hadn't noticed him yet.

He looked nothing like the eccentric, black-robed man he was before. He wasn't smiling madly, he wasn't humming giddily like he normally did during his work, he was abnormally... quiet. His silver hair was pulled back into an incredibly tight braid, and a pair of glasses now sat over his eyes, hiding them behind both his bangs and glasses. An aqua-green scrubs set, a white labcoat, and surgical gloves covered the rest of him.

"Erm..." Grell began, walking closer to the dissection table, "Good evening, doctor. A few good friends of mine told me to pay you a visit." He removed one of his hands to wave, quickly gagging on the air - this couldn't be Undertaker, could it? Had he really changed this much? "D-doctor," Grell began again, "may I ask, what is your name? I'm not a fan of simply last names, you see."

"Stephen," he replied flatly, prying open the body in front of him and peering inside. He looked up - the glare on his glasses still hiding his eyes - and paused, "Before you make me go on, who sent you here, to me, so late at night? At this hour, my normal customers are either those who die in their sleep, or people like this poor fellow, who can't drive worth a damn."

Grell relaxed, "Well, I was told to meet you by a William and a Ronald," he explained, now smiling. Trying to now just ignore the smell in the room, he set both of his hands on his hips, "And I don't think I really have to say any more, Stevie. After all, you know _my_ name, no matter how many times you feign innocence."

Stephen set aside his scalpel and stood completely up, a light, joking smile on his face, "That I do, Grell. You're very hard to forget." He grabbed a handle on the dissection table and pulled it over to a nearby wall, opening a small chamber and sliding his half-dissected corpse inside, "And you made such a better visit than that William fellow. He stormed in and demanded to speak to me at the front desk, and when he found me, he had nothing to say."

"Oh, he's just a stick in the mud, you know?" Grell hummed, laughing to himself and slipping over to the doctor's side, showing his sharp teeth on an odd grin, "However, it is such a pleasure to find you, really! After all this time, and you're basically still up to the same old thing of cutting up the dead." He quieted himself down to a low chuckle, "You look so clean, too. I almost couldn't tell it was you, Undertaker."

"Ah, really? That's good, very good, in fact," he said in reply, a light step in his voice as his smirk from before was now a full on, merry smile. "You see, I don't think I've genuinely laughed in forever, it's gotten to the point where I find anything funny! But this is a problem, at least it is when you'll get scolded for laughing," he chimed, slipping off his bloody rubber gloves and tossing them in a trash can. "Everyone thinks I'm laughing at the customers when I do, in which case I get in trouble. I hate keeping such a straight face!"

Grell slid his arm around Undertaker's neck, "Well, you don't have to keep a straight face around me, you know. You really need to relax - become any more uptight, you might turn out like Will." He shook his head slowly, a light sigh passing his lips, "And mentioning him, he told me he followed you here. Why did he do that, does he still idolize you?"

With a nod, Undertaker fixed his glasses further up on his nose, "Of course he still does. He's such an annoying man! He still talks about things I did back before you were ever around, as if he saw them or something." He chuckled, turning slightly to look at Grell, "Enlighten me, how old are you now? Three hundred some-odd, right?"

"Three hundred twenty-eight," Grell replied quietly, shifting away from the doctor, "and I still don't look a day over thirty." He paused, turning to look around the room again, somewhat absentmindedly, "Will talks about you too much. Almost everytime I see him he reminds me of something great you did as if he were around to see it. Bookworm. He says you're ancient, too."

"That I am, that I am," Undertaker sung in return. He held up his hands, still chuckling, and began to count out loud on his fingers almost playfully. "Let me see here! Since last I checked... Nine hundred forty-four, nine hundred forty-five, nine -"

"Stephen, you shouldn't talk so loudly about your age. The humans may hear, you know."

This sharp remark startled the both of them. From the doorway emerged a single slick, dark figure - it was William, his face as stern as always, his spear-like death scythe over his right shoulder. Ronald followed suit, hastily brushing his wavy blond hair out of his eyes as he lugged an old-fashioned lawnmower behind him.

"O-oh!" Ronald stammered out, wiping his forehead, "Didn't think I'd see you you here, Grell! Will and I had to take care of a mission a ways away." He laughed, taking off his thick-rimmed glasses to clean them with his shirt, "I hate the out of town missions, but -"

Will glared over his shoulder at his partner, "Ronald, cut that out. You're not here to chit-chat." He sighed, agitated, and looked back to Undertaker, "I apologize for being late, sir. A certain partner of mine's death scythe was acting up and having difficulty holding it's keep." He bowed deeply, "I know you like talking with me every weekend, sir."

Undertaker shrugged, grinning once more, "It's not that I like it, you know, you just help break the monotony. Besides, Grell visiting was a rather nice change in visitors!"He laughed out loud, his stance wavering slightly as he turned away from his new visitors, "Y'know what baffles me? How you call me Stephen. It's not my name, you know."

"I prefer calling people by names instead of their jobs," Will replied quietly. He looked over at Grell - who was absentmindedly staring at him - and growled, "Do you have anything you want to add in, Sutcliff?"

"Oh, just that you have the most perfect timing," Grell hummed, waltzing over to Will and trying to hug him. "You know, if I'd have known that you visit Undertaker every weekend, I'd start visiting just to see you, you little shut-in!" He did a fake pout in an attempt to look cute before giving Will a peck on the cheek, "It's rude to avoid people, you know..."

"I'll avoid you as much as I want," Will retorted, flustered, pushing the redhead away and wiping off his cheek, "You are _so_ disgusting." He sighed one more, quickly turning around and grabbing Ronald by the arm, "Come on Ronald, we're leaving. We came at a bad time."

Ronald stiffened up, making a quick grab for his lawnmower again, "W-wait! Will, we haven't even been here for five minutes! I mean, and I haven't gotten to talk to Grell yet, or..." He began to trail off, shutting himself up once he noticed that his superior wasn't listening at all. He frowned and waved at his friends, "B-buh-bye, Grell, Undy. Er, um, Stevie..."

While Undertaker simply smiled and waved silently, Grell crossed his arms. "Hmph! Fine, be that way, Will. At least Ronnie's not some sort of bookish loner!" He shook his head, sighing, "Bye, Ronnie... I promise, I'll talk with you tomorrow, okay?"

After a short silence, William and Ronald were long gone, bouncing off somewhere else in the night. Undertaker chuckled again, walking over to a small desk on the other side of the room and pulling out a fresh pair of latex gloves. "Despite the fact that Will is annoying and I feel sorry for Ronald," he mused, slipping the gloves on, "after they visit me, I'm assured a new customer. I guess all's well that end's well, right?"

"Oh, sure, I guess," Grell said blankly, a soft smile on his face. "At least I got to kiss him, even if he did wipe it off and all." He uncrossed his arms and made his way toward the door, "Well, I best be on my way too, if Ronnie wants to see me tomorrow. You have fun with your new customer, okay?"

"I always have fun with the customers," Undertaker replied, sitting down in an office chair and crossing his legs. "As you said, I haven't changed a bit."

* * *

AHHHLALA. An entire chapter of people talking. I like this chapter, but it was boring. Oh so boring. At least it's over with!


End file.
